My Father's Keeper
by Old School Fan
Summary: The relationship between Ric Flair and Hulk Hogan through the eyes of David Flair.
1. Chapter 1

We're treated once again to yet another chapter of the Flair/Hogan war, only this time, it isn't a simple matter of who gets bragging rights. Oh no, no, no. This time, it's much more personal. You see, it's Hogan's team of Abyss and Van Dam against Dad's team of AJ and Kazarian. Hogan, being the thoughtful guy that he is, adds the stipulation that if his team wins, Dad would be his for the taking. One guess as to which team wins. Unless you've been in a coma for the last twenty years, you know damn well who wins. Hogan owns my dad. I mean, literally owns my dad. This just goes to show you that Hogan, Bischoff and all those other jackoffs running TNA have no clue how to create fresh and exciting storylines. The winner takes the loser's manager/valet/girlfriend/wife thing has been done to death. Didn't they just do the same fucking angle involving Chelsea? And they wonder why TNA's ratings are in the shitter.

At Hogan's insistence, Dad packs his bags and leaves his wife of eight months in North Carolina so that he can play house with Hogan in Florida. "Terry says it will make the storyline much more believable," Dad explains, his eyes pleading with me to understand. Mind you this is 2010 and nobody but the biggest retard would believe in the realness of a wrestling storyline, but for Dad's sake, I pretend to buy his explanation. He relaxes a little, even brings himself to smile at me. "Will you come for a visit?," he asks.

"Yeah, I'll come to see you," I tell him. I instinctively wrap my arms around him and he clings tight to me. It's times like this when I really worry about Dad. I've always admired him for being the larger than life personality that he is. But there are moments when he drops the facade and reveals his vulnerable side. Even though I didn't see much of Dad growing up, as the oldest son, I feel responsible for him, even protective of him. I silently vow that I will drop in quite often just to make sure that Hogan isn't mistreating him.

Weeks later, I make the trip down south. I arrive at the house late in the evening. Dad 's face registers shock at first, but then he's all smiles when he greets me at the door wearing jeans, light blue t-shirt, and flip flops. His white-blond hair is combed carefully into place. As we carry my bags inside, I take a good look around. I have to admit that it's a nice house, nowhere near the size of Hogan's old mansion, but still very nice and cozy. It has a rustic feel. Old fashioned wood furniture, the sturdy kind that looks like it will hold up forever. Afghans draped over overstuffed sofas. Framed photos of Hogan's brats are everywhere though, but no photos of yours truly or my sisters and brother. Why am I not surprised?

We deposit my bags inside a spare bedroom, then it's back downstairs where Dad makes coffee. I decline the cake offer. Gotta stick to my diet, you know. In the living room, we discuss what's going on in my life. Robin, the kids, my full-time job. My part-time wrestling gig. Back when I was nineteen and just getting started in the wrestling business, my heart really wasn't in it. Sure, I was making good money for a kid my age and I will forever be known as the guy who took Stacy Keibler's virginity, but the real reason why I became a wrestler is sitting cross-legged on the sofa, clutching a coffee cup in his manicured hands. Back then it was all about having Dad's full attention.

I never did become a great wrestler. I'm not even a good wrestler. I often wonder if it disappoints him that I'm not the big star the son of Ric Flair should be. Sometimes I find myself watching Dad closely, like I'm doing right now, searching his face for clues. I never find that trace of disappointment I expect to see in his crystal blue gaze, only the love of a father for his son.

Hogan chooses this moment to return home. He seems downright perturbed to see my fat ass taking up space in his living room. He shoots Dad an accusatory look. Like a puppet being manipulated by a puppet master, Dad sits his coffee down and rises to greet Hogan with a peck on the lips. "David missed his old papa, so he came all this way to see me. Isn't that nice?" He hesitates before forging on. "He'll be staying a little while. I hope you don't mind. Terry?" The tone he uses with Hogan is one I know all too well. Gentle coaxing and just a hint of wariness.

Hogan says nothing. He pushes past Dad and storms upstairs. I hear a door slam and Dad flinches. "Damn," I mutter quietly. Dad sits back down and picks up his cup. He tries to appear calm, but his hand is trembling. I suddenly feel guilty. Maybe I should have given Dad advance notice of my arrival. But how was I supposed to know that my being there would make trouble for him?

"I'll give Terry a little time to calm down," he tells me, "Then I'll have a talk with him."

The talk, as it turns out, involves a lot of grunting and groaning. It also involves a creaking bed and Dad screaming Hogan's name over and over with the occasional "Oh God!" Dad may be on his knees, but something tells me he isn't praying. As I stand outside their bedroom door, their carnal sounds invading my ears, mental pictures of Dad naked and submissive wreak havoc on my overactive imagination.

I flee to the sanctuary that is my room, strip down to my boxers and fall into bed.

After a fitful sleep, I awake the next morning to a heavenly aroma coming from downstairs. I take a leak, splash water on my face, throw on baggy sweats and a t-shirt, and venture down toward the source of the scent. Hogan is seated at the kitchen table, the king of his castle, being served by his queen. That would be Dad. It's weird seeing my old man doing anything even remotely domestic, but there he is, piling a mountain of eggs, bacon, and pancakes on Hogan's plate. What's even more weird is seeing Hogan's hand creeping up Dad's thigh. Now Dad is wearing this really short robe and whenever he leans over, I get an unobstructed view of sixty-one year old ass cheek.

"Mmm, those cakes sure look tasty," Hogan comments.

"I'm glad you appreciate my culinary efforts."

"I was talking about _your_ cakes." He replies and gives Dad's ass a playful smack.

Okay this is too disturbing. I clear my throat, announcing my presence. Both men turn to see my large body filling the doorway. My dad blushes; he has the grace to look embarrassed. "I-I didn't know you were standing there," he stammers while tugging in vain at the skimpy little garment that I'm certain Hogan insists that he wears. I glare at Hogan who smirks at me while stroking Dad's thigh. The message is clear. _"Get used to it, boy. This is mine."_

Dad swats Hogan's hand away and looks to me, "Come, eat with us. I made plenty."

I plop down into a chair and Dad proceeds to serve me breakfast.. "Not too much," I tell him, ever mindful of my diet. Dad nods his understanding and serves me a mere fraction of the food Hogan's wolfing down.

"Get me some of that orange juice," commands the king between mouthfuls of food. What a pig.

"Jesus Terry, slow down. I don't need you choking to death on me."

I can't help it. I feel my lips twitch involuntarily at the macabre yet comforting thought of Hogan gasping his last breath, his face turning an unearthly shade of purple while bits of food cling to his Fu Manchu. Maybe I'll stand over him and say "Whatcha gonna do, brother?" I manage to choke back laughter when Dad gives me a disapproving glance. Dad pours us all a large glass of orange juice and with his majesty's permission, he sits down to his own breakfast.

We make idle chatter before the conversation turns to my little brother Reid. I feel that familiar pang of jealousy seeing Dad's eyes light up when he talks about his "baby boy." Don't misunderstand me, I love my brother. Deep down he's a good guy, but he has some issues. Three arrests and he's only twenty-two, but Dad insists on coddling him.

"That Reid's one hell of a kid," so decrees the almighty Hogan. "Very talented. Good looking too." He eyes Dad appraisingly. "I see where he gets it."

Dad is beaming. Hogan reaches over and takes Dad's hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. A long, lingering look passes between them. That's when I realize to my shock and amazement that Dad is happier than I've seen him in a long time. Dad is in love. As for Hogan, that old bastard is smiling. I mean, an honest to God genuine smile. Even his eyes are smiling.

"Terry..." Dad says softly, baby blues glistening with tears of joy.

"I know, baby," Hogan says, his tone uncharacteristically tender. "Love ya too, Rickles."

Well, I'll be damned. Call me crazy, but I do believe he's telling the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes, it's hard not to get the line between reality and fiction blurred, especially when one so closely resembles the other. I disappear from sight when the TNA camera crew arrives to shoot comedic footage of Hogan forcing Dad to perform chores that the Nature Boy character would find demeaning. Of course the real story is what's happening off camera. I'm not exactly thrilled with the way Hogan is constantly kissing and coming on to Dad in my presence or the way Dad responds like a bitch in heat.

We're watching television in the living room when Hogan suddenly takes Dad's hand and places it on his bulging crotch. "See how hard I am for you, baby?" he murmurs.

"God, you're insatiable. I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"I can think of a few things." Hogan wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and motions with his head toward the stairs. Dad, who appears to have gotten over the embarrassment of my witnessing such moments, merely shrugs at me. He stands and heads for the stairs. Hogan follows, his eyes fixed on Dad's denim encased ass.

I watch them go with an odd mixture of disgust and awe. Disgust because this is my dad we're talking about here and awe because who knew that those two old men had it in them to fuck so often?

* * *

"Hello, Ed." Dad smiles when he opens the door and sees Beefcake standing there. I recognize that smile. It's his _I really can't stand you but I'll be damned if I let you know it _smile. "Terry will be down in a little while. You're welcomed to come in and wait for him."

"Thanks, Ric." Beefcake with the same smile, the skin stretched tautly over his surgically repaired face. He takes a seat and acknowledges me with a nod.

"Can I get you a drink?" Dad, being ever so sweet and accommodating.

"No, thank you. I'm good."

Moments later, Hogan, freshly showered and dressed in his ususal ensemble of jeans, t-shirt, and bandanna, bounds down the stairs. You wouldn't know that he recently had back surgery. He's moving like a guy half his age. Ed notices it too because he stands and says, "Wow Terry, you look great."

"Thanks man, I feel great. That's what some good loving will do for you." He winks at Dad.

Beefcake's smile slips a little, but he recovers it. "Well then, you ready to go?"

"Just about." He grabs Dad, pulls him in for a lingering kiss.

Beefcake rolls his eyes and glances at his watch impatiently. "Knobbs is waiting for us."

When Hogan finally breaks the kiss, he rasps into Dad's ear. "I want you naked and ready for me when I get back."

Dad, flushed and radiant, responds with "I'm all yours, big man."

Giving Dad's bottom a squeeze, Hogan leaves the house, Beefcake in tow. Beefcake glances back at Dad, his scowl deepening when Dad fixes him with one of his _fuck you_ smirks.

* * *

"He hates you," I say to Dad after they've left. We're sitting at the kitchen table. Dad is about to dig into a pint of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey.

"Of course he does," he says airily. "It galls him that I, whom he mockingly refers to as dried up old queen, can still hold Terry's interest. You _have_ noticed that Terry can't keep his hands off of me."

"Oh I've noticed."

Dad puts a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, savors it, then swallows. His face is pure bliss. He licks the spoon, licks his lips and I have uncomfortable thoughts of him licking something else.

"David, you're staring."

"Huh?" Now, it's my turn to be embarrassed. I lower my eyes, cheeks burning, when I realize that I am indeed staring.

He puts the ice cream away and says apologetically. "I shouldn't be eating this in front of you. You've been working so hard to lose weight and it shows. You're looking good."

I mumble a thanks, relieved that he doesn't have a clue what I'm really thinking.

"I could stand to lose a few pounds myself." He sighs, placing a hand on the soft swell of his belly. "The older I get, the harder it is to stay trim. I've thought about getting a few nips and tucks and maybe hair replacement. It wouldn't hurt. But Terry, that dear sweet man, tells me 'Baby, you're beautiful the way you are and I don't want you to change a thing.' Then that old fool kisses my belly and says 'besides that little pot belly of yours is kind of hot.' Can you believe him?"

Dad laughs a little, then his tone turns serious. "You know, loving that man hasn't always been easy. God knows we've had our problems over the years, but David, Terry is good to me. He really is. The way he looks at me as if I'm the most desirable thing in the world. The way he touches me, makes love to me. He always seems to know what I need. He..." Dad stops himself. "God, what am I doing? I shouldn't be talking to my son about these things. Have I lost my goddamn mind?"

"You're in love." I say to him reassuringly. "And I'm happy for you."

"Are you really?," he brightens. "Then you will try to get along with him?"

"Dad, I get that you love him and I'm not gonna tell you that it's wrong. But as far as me and getting along with Hogan goes, well I just don't know."

"But won't you at least try? For me?" Dad's pink lips form a pout which would have looked ridiculous on anyone else his age. His baby blues stare at me imploringly, bringing back memories of how he floated in and out of my life when I was a kid like some golden haired fairy, bearing a mountain of gifts and pretty words of love. I could never stay angry with him, even as his absences grew longer, because whenever he reappeared in my life, he said all the things I longed to hear, showered me with hugs and kisses. And for those fleeting moments in my childhood, I felt special. So whenever he would ask, 'do you forgive your old papa for staying away so long?' I would look into those eyes and say what I knew he needed to hear. 'Yes, I forgive you.'

So I tell him that I will try to get along with Hogan, not because I believe for one minute that it's possible, but because I know that's what he expects me to say.


	3. Chapter 3

When I approach Hogan about helping me step up my training, he graciously agrees, probably because he knows it will make Dad happy. Hogan and I are down in the basement, which also doubles as his home gym. Pretty basic equipment. Weight bench, weight station, treadmill, elliptical machine, and an assortment of dumbbells and plates.

After a grueling session, during which he's on my ass like a drill sergeant, I collapse onto the weight bench, completely exhausted and drenched in sweat. I dab at my damp forehead with a towel and bring my water bottle up to my lips, taking a long, satisfying sip. Hogan stands over me, his expression unreadable. He may be nearing sixty, but with those huge arms folded across that broad chest, he looks downright intimidating. "You did good kid. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Thanks," I say, smiling up at him the way I've seen Dad do lots of times during this trip. "You're a great motivator. I bet you can get me to do anything."

He looks at me kind of strange as if he's considering what "anything" might entail. Slowly, he replies with, "I can't make you do anything you don't want to do. You have to want it."

"Oh I want it, big man." My voice is a seductive purr, something else I've picked up from Dad.

Hogan glances nervously at the door as if he's expecting Dad to appear at any second.. He runs a hand over is smooth pate. I can see the gears turning. _Do I dare?_

_Yes_, you bastard, I'm thinking. _Do it so I can tell Dad all about it._

After a moment's indecision, he looks away from me. "Get out of here, boy," he says.

"Oh Terry, you don't _really_ want me to go, now do you?" My hand is on his crotch, fondling it through the fabric of his shorts. It's having the desired effect. He stands there, moaning, getting hard under my ministrations. I drop to my knees, dragging his shorts and underwear down his powerful thighs. I'm very close to taking him into my mouth when he gives me an angry shove and sends me falling onto my ass.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He pulls up his shorts and glowers at me. "How could you disrespect your father like this?"

"I'm disrespecting him?" I retort, rising to my feet. "If he wasn't upstairs, you'd be all over me. You'd fuck me the way you do those TNA boys, the ones so desperate to keep their jobs that they're willing to endure your shriveled old cock in them."

"That's a goddamn lie!"

"Is it?" I sneer triumphantly. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Which one of us would Dad believe? Let's find out." I try to push past him, but he steps in front of me.

"Listen you punk," he says through gritted teeth, "your father is the one good thing in my life and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you and your lies come between us."

"Bullshit. The moment he's gone, you'll find some other whore to take his place."

His fist instantly connects with my face and I find myself on the floor for the second time. I put my hand to my cheek. Satisfied that the bone isn't shattered, I rise to my feet. He reels back, ready to nail me again, but I raise a hand in surrender. Then, I extend it to him. A truce. "That hurt like a motherfucker. You throw a good punch, old man."

"You had it coming."

"I sure did," I laugh.

"You little shit," he says, but he's laughing too. "That was a test."

"Uh huh."

He marvels at me and I realize that I've finally gained his respect. Hogan does shake my hand and together we ascend the stairs. We enter the kitchen laughing like two old friends. Dad grabs protein shakes from the fridge and as he hands them to us, he looks from my smiling face to Hogan's and raises an eyebrow at our uncharacteristic bonhomie.

"You two mind letting me in on the joke?"

Hogan casts me a meaningful glance. The details of what happened in the basement will stay between us.

"You got a fine young man there" he tells Dad, "and he obviously loves you very much."

"I love him too even if he _does _think I'm a whore." He shakes his head, clicks his tongue in mock scolding. "By the way David, that was a poor imitation of me."

I feel myself turn beet red. "You heard?"

"And saw with my own two eyes. I was standing at the top of the stairs with the door opened ever so slightly. Now David, I may be a lot of things, but I'm not easy. I would never go down on a guy right away. Where's the fun in that?"

"True," Hogan concurs. "This little cocktease made me wait for it."

"But wasn't I worth it?"

"Damn right you were with that pretty little mouth and sweet, supple behind. "

"Hey," I cut in, pretending to be offended, "that's my old man you're talking about."

"David," Dad says, his tone serious. "I think it's about time Terry and I tell you the story of how we got together. Go take a shower and when you get back we can talk. Really talk."

"Dad, you don't have to explain anything. I mean, you're with him and he makes you happy. That's a good thing."

"Yes, it's a very good thing, but this is something I've been wanting to share with you for a long time. Please."

* * *

As I stand under the shower's warm spray, I contemplate what's been happening. Up until this visit, I stubbornly refused to believe that this arrangement was something that Dad wanted. Sure, I've known for years that something was going on between them. I found that out back in WCW when I overheard Luger say to Sting, "Look Steve, I know that it won't be easy, but you need to cut him loose. Flair's not worth losing a seven figure job over. How long do you think you'll last around here if Hogan figures out you're still fucking him?"

I never questioned Dad about any of his relationships. Maybe because I didn't want to make him uncomfortable, or maybe because I just didn't want to know. It was enough knowing that he slept around. I didn't need to know the details.

Seeing Hogan and Dad being so openly sexual, though unnerving, was not surprising. Of course I had always imagined a scenario that painted Hogan as the bad guy. Maybe Dad wasn't enjoying any of it and he was being forced to submit to a man he hated. It never occurred to me that he welcomed Hogan's touch.

I simply could not fathom Dad falling in love with the man who abused his son on a pay-per-view broadcast. Sure it happened over a decade ago, but that night is still fresh in my mind. For those of you who don't recall the incident, I'll take you through it. NWO Souled Out pay per view. Me and Dad vs Curt Hennig and Barry Windham. Dad and I had our hands raised that night. NWO hit the ring as scripted, handcuffed Dad to the rope and attacked me. But while I was being held down, Hogan took off his weight belt and started whipping me repeatedly. That whipping was no work. Hogan, who had a lot of backstage power, wanted to show Dad who was in control. For real.

I'm sure a lot of people who saw Dad crying thought _"Damn, that's some great acting."_ Well, I gotta tell you that Dad, with all of his wonderful qualities, is not that great of an actor. The misery etched on his face was very real. His angry, helpless sobs were real. The whipping I could take, but seeing my dad in tears just about killed me.

I want to think that Hogan isn't that guy anymore. That maybe personal and financial ruin have somehow changed him, humbled him. Maybe Dad, who has been dealing with his own hardship, is seeking comfort in the arms of the only one who truly understands. Maybe they're finding solace in each other. Whatever the situation is, I hope that Dad has truly found the everlasting happiness he deserves.

I retrieve my ringing cellphone when I step out of the shower, look at it and roll my eyes heavenward. Jackie again. I let it keep ringing. I'm sure she'll be demanding to know why Dad is still in Florida. If I thought she actually cared about him, I'd feel sorry for her. That marriage was a mistake. I know it and Dad knows it. He just won't admit it, not even to himself.


End file.
